


My fight is over.

by youllalwaysfitinwithme



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youllalwaysfitinwithme/pseuds/youllalwaysfitinwithme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up right after 3x16. Octavia leaves Polis and embarks on a (kind of) journey towards character development. </p><p>Or what I would like to happen after the S3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My fight is over.

 

> We're all killers.  
>  We've all killed parts of ourselves  
>  to survive.
> 
> We've all got blood on our hands.  
>  Something somewhere had to die  
>  so we could stay alive.  
>  _if memories could bleed, if dreams could scream_ | **[m.a.w](http://dvoyd.tumblr.com/post/143460714298)**

 

 

The war was over. ALIE had been defeated, and Lincoln avenged. _Jus drein jus daun_ , she reminded herself while riding the horse that got her away from everything she knew. She had taken care of Indra first, of course, but once she was safe, Octavia bade her farewell.

_"What kind of a warrior abandons its people after a victory?" Indra had asked, eyes closed and tired voice. Her hands laid over the blanket, blood red staining the bandages. Octavia knew she would fall asleep at any moment, the only thing keeping her awake was their conversation. "Did your strength of spirit die with Lincoln? Only a coward runs away."_

_Octavia closed her hands into fists. She closed her eyes as well, holding back the tears that clouded her vision. She took a deep breath, and did her best at ignoring her mentor's words. All but one._

_"I am not a coward" she muttered "but I won't stay here."_

_"All that you know is here" Indra finally looked over at her. Her eyes scanning the room, but Octavia knew what she meant. Higher above, on the tower._ Bellamy _. "All that you_ need _is here."_

 _"Ai hou kamp raun hir" Octavia raised a hand towards her chest, and let it rest above her heart._ My home is here _. Indra tensed her lips in defeat. It was her, after all, who had taught Octavia everything she knew; her and Lincoln._

_Indra knew that running away was not the wisest of choices, not when a war had just ended, and out there it was only chaos. But she knew as well that Octavia was stubborn, and standing against her wouldn't be of any help._

_They were rare, the occasions when her own lessons turned against her._

_"I've trained you well, Octavia Blake. I won't hold you back anymore; I know when a fight is lost." At this, Octavia approached her bedside and, kneeling on the ground, took Indra's head with one hand and pressed it close to hers. She placed her chin over her shoulder and closed her eyes. It was the closest to a hug that Indra could stand, and even that hurt her. When she pulled away, her lips were pressed together, bearing the pain._

_"Leida, Indra" Her voice tried to remain firm, certain._ Goodbye _._

_"No. Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim, Okteivia."_

_Octavia nodded her head and left._ May we meet again _._

 

She didn't say goodbye to Bellamy. She wouldn't have known how to. Her brother, the one she couldn't quite separate from Lincoln's death. The same who saw her growing up. The very same who witnessed her killing Pike without a word, and then leaving. He hadn't followed her, just watched as she left. Weary, dissapointed, afraid. And despite it all, Octavia knew he understood.

One day she would return to him, but not now. She needed time to grieve Lincoln's death; face the pain inside of her. She needed to be alone; find herself again. Mend herself and find the way to give up the rage. She was _so_ tired of hating. If Lincoln was alive, he wouldn't recognize her. The rage had swallowed her, there was no trace of Octavia left. So she tried to remember -remember herself- but all that came to her mind was him. And there it was the rage, burning her chest again. Octavia laid on the back of the horse and cried. She let it wander aimlessly through the woods, she didn't know where she was going anyway. She felt like a compass missing a pointer; aimless. She had never been so lost. She had never beared so much pain.

 

···············

 

Several days passed, but the pain remained. Alone in the woods, the only way to vent her anger was fighting the trees. She wrecked their barks with her sword, until her sword was wrecked. The only thing left then were her fists, but these too ended up ruined. Octavia had believed that revenge would bring her closure. The rage would die with the object of her rage, but it didn't. She almost felt guilty over the man who fought by her side; almost felt guilty over the look on his eyes when her sword pierced his stomach. She watched as life left his eyes, the same eyes that haunted her dreams now. Why? Pike deserved to die. Octavia had no doubt about that, not only because of Lincoln, but also because of the army he slaughtered. And yet there was something about his death that would not let her rest. It woke her up in the middle of the night, and it had her going through every horrible thing he'd done, looking for reasons to justify herself.

 

The day Octavia figured it out, she found herself even more lost. What separated Pike from every other crime was right there, and only now she understood the fear in her brother's eyes; her eyes were probably reflecting the same. It was in that tower, right after ALIE had been defeated. Her brother looked at her from across the room and she just stared back, neither of them made a move. Just a slight nod while everyone around them was looking for forgiveness, or forgiving. But not her, she was the exception. Instead of turning to her brother and letting go of her anger, she had turned to hate. And her sword took Pike's life. It wasn't an act of war, or self-defense, as every other death staining her hands. It was cold-blooded murder, a treacherous act. A revenge that brought her not peace, but more rage and despair. _Jus drein jus daun_ , she recalled. Those words had been running through her mind since Lincoln's death. She had repeated them like a mantra, and had believed in them. But just there in the woods, when she was more lost, did Octavia realize her mistake. She did not need blood, after all; she needed Lincoln.

 

···············

 

Ironically, something changed in her from that moment. It took her to be completely lost, to be able to find direction, aim. Octavia still didn't know who she was, what she wanted nor where to go. But she had figured out what she didn't want: she did not want any more blood on her hands.

 

···············

 

In her attempts to find herself, Octavia had tried braiding her hair again, but she soon gave up. Lincoln never showed her how, he was always there to do it. She looked for a hint of herself on the pages of his journal then, and soon held every image in her memory. She looked for Okteivia, the warrior, but it was too painful. That person was all rage and revenge. It was everything she was trying to run from. So she looked in her memories from the ark for that scared little girl who had faced her fears when the bars of the skybox replaced the hole under the floor. Octavia Blake had been shy, good, full of curiosity, raised to be just like her brother. What had happened to them? Too much tragedy. Not even Bellamy's tales were so tragic. The heroes won the wars and remained heroes. Why didn't she?

Why couldn't she recognise herself at least?

The answer didn't keep her waiting, it was much more simpler than she'd liked to admit: she had let the Earth swallow her kindness, her shyness. She had replaced them for bravery and a sword. And now that the war was over, there was nothing left of her.

 

 ···············

 

Those days in solitude helped her mend. Octavia felt like some parts of herself were under her control again. The pain was still there, but it was a pain she could assimilate. But still she couldn't go back; the rage was still there too, and she feared it would never really leave her. She'd accepted that the rage might be a part of herself, but she couldn't go back and risk unleash it upon her family. She couldn't let her brother become her punching bag whenever she needed one. The words she said to him on that cave, right after beating him up, still frightened her. _You're dead to me_. It frightened her not because they were true, but because he had believed them. In the following weeks, Octavia had thought that she would never forgive him, and now she had to live with the fear that it might be him who couldn't forgive her. _You'll always fit in with me_ , he had told her. And she had given him punches and accusations in return.

No, Octavia couldn't go back just yet. Next time she saw Bellamy, she ought to be complete. She ought to ask for forgiveness, and let him know that he was forgiven. She owed that to him. And to herself.

 

 ···············

 

Octavia knew what she needed, so she fed the fire for days until they came.

The green flames stood between them and her. By their appearance, Octavia found little differences between these people and the rest of grounders she'd met: straight and threatening posture, weapons on their hands... Under the light of the fire, they seemed dangerous. But there was something in the way they held themselves. They didn't seem to want to fight. They were ready in case they needed to, but their eyes didn't show any sign of defiance, only uncertainty. Octavia wondered if she'd ever come to be like that. Was that what she really wanted? To give up the fight and become weak? To live in fear? She had spent her whole life running away from fear, and so she felt that going back to that place was a step back. Was it the right thing substituting the rage inside her with the uncertainty these people showed?

Only Luna approached her after a moment of reflection. She held her gaze without saying a word. Her eyes were expectant, her face almost completely shadowed by the curls that wouldn't let the fire light up her face. Octavia held her gaze, holding onto Lincoln's journal on her hands, feeling him with her, until she found what seemed to be the right words.

"I seek to join you." She said with all of her strength. "I'm not Skaikru, I'm not Trikru...I don't even know who I am anymore. I just seek sanctuary."

"You know we only take in those who are done fighting. Last time you were here you brought fight and death with you." Luna closed her eyes, as if the memory hurt her. Last time they were there, her partner had died. She'd had to kill him herself, and Octavia couldn't comprehend how she could live with that. When Luna opened her eyes again, Octavia found no resentment nor hate in them, and she got her answer. She was in the right place. She could find peace and forgiveness there. She would heal. Her lips formed the words almost unconciously:

"Ai gonplei ste odon."

_My fight is over._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!!  
> My name is Sara and I'm new on this writing thing. Well, I've always been writing but never really publishing so it would be nice to see some feedback.  
> About the text: I really think Octavia needs to figure out/deal with her issues and get a redemption arc, and I can't wait 9 months for it so...I hope you liked this kind of self-discovery thing. And in case someone gets it wrong...I LOVE Octavia Blake, and I can't blame her for her actions, but Marie said she'll be on a darker path next season, so I wanted an alternative because I'm not ready for Darth Octavia.  
> Btw, the "Luna" idea is not really mine, I just saw it on several tumblr posts and decided to go with it.  
> Anyway the purpose of these notes here is to let you know that English is not my first language, so if you saw anything weird about the text, just let me know, I'll correct it gladly!


End file.
